The Simple Truth
by FantasticJackie
Summary: After Dumbledore’s death, to continue on for the hope of a better future, Remus must confront his doubts and fears for the present. The only person who can make him see is the woman he’s been pushing away. The post-hospital scene of HBP.


**The Simple Truth  
**_By: Jackie_

**AN: **Newly revised, long ago witten originally in the Metamorfic Moon Beatles and the Bard Timeless Moon Ball where it won Runner Up for Angst, this fic was written with the express purpose to be canon, leaving room for why Remus leaves Tonks again in DH even though he was seemingly convinced at the end of HBP. I thought it was difficult the first time 'round, but that was nothing compared to the revisions, which will mostly be noticeable to anyone rereading only at the end as I made a lot of minor changes, as well. And while I'd say that this still doesn't quite hit the difficulty of my hardest ever written, I'd say it's a very close second!  
**Thanks: **I'd like to thank again everyone who reviewed the original version of this over at Meta. Y'all have no idea how helpful you really were when the time came to actually put into _words _what I was really thinking here. You guys rock my socks!  
And now, _I_ will shut up so you can read said revised ficcy! :)

Remus Lupin stood before a window on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, staring blankly ahead. He'd left the Hospital Wing a few minutes after Harry and Minerva had retreated, walking without a direction, though he vaguely remembered passing the library. Oh the memories he had of that place… A happier time that seemed lifetimes ago.

A time before Voldemort.

Had such a time ever existed? A better question was would such a time ever exist again? Not before, but simply without.

Without was where they found themselves now. Without their leader. Teacher, mentor, father figure, most brilliant mind of the age. Without Dumbledore, a future without Voldemort was difficult to imagine. Hope of such a thing seemed misguided, too fantastic to be rooted in reality. People would be turning to Harry now, he realised.

He'd read what the Prophet said about James' and Lily's son being the One, but the truth of the matter was, One or not, Harry was still just a boy. It wasn't that Remus didn't have the utmost confidence in Harry's abilities; he'd proven himself more than enough times in situations that most grown wizards would never have survived. But escaping from Voldemort's clutches wasn't the same as destroying him.

He wasn't sure what they would do, now. Without Dumbledore as their shield, their existence was soon going to become heavily burdened. – Both their places within the Order and without it.

It was all the more reason to stay away from Tonks. At least she would only have to worry about her membership to the Order rather than the double jeopardy of being involved with a werewolf. He had been moved by Fleur's declaration to stand by Bill no matter the cursed injury he'd sustained and not so surprised by Tonks' outburst, in retrospect. How he wished things could be so simple between himself and Nymphadora.

Speaking of whom, he heard her tread approaching him from behind. He wasn't sure how he could recognize her walk, especially considering how subdued she and it were, but when she stopped a length behind him, he expected her voice when she spoke.

"I'm sorry I made a scene," she said softly.

He wasn't anticipating her apology, but Remus didn't turn. He was too tired from the terrible events of the night, and he feared he wouldn't be able to resist her in his current frame of mind. "It's all right," he said equally quiet, voice hoarse. Really, he was surprised how long they'd been able to keep their entire relationship quiet, let alone their separation.

But perhaps she hadn't heard his answer. More than likely, she didn't believe it. "It was selfish to bring up our… When there's so much else to be concerned about," she continued, rushing her words. "And I shouldn't have put you-"

"Tonks," he interrupted, turning to face her, eyes connecting with hers. He repeated, "It's all right."

She nodded her consent surprisingly quick, and then let her gaze sweep over him. He realised that it was probably her intention in the first place, to entice him to turn around. Devious little… Despite the sombre atmosphere, Remus felt an urge to smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He denied it and let her look over him for a moment more before turning back for the window.

He despised himself as he caught a glimpse of the hurt pass through her features, and sagged, leaning against the stone sill, running his fingers once through his hair absently.

Silence engulfed them for a few awkward moments.

She was the first to speak again. "How are you holding up?" she asked, forging the conversation ahead. Her tone was soft and strained; he could hear the tears threatening, but he knew from experience that she wouldn't let them fall.

His heart clenched at that, and then the reality as his gaze fell to the ground far below, his imagination filling in how it must have happened. It was all he could do to merely shake his head. He didn't know when he would be all right again, if ever.

"Me, too," she agreed quietly.

Something occurred to him then, and he gave a short, ironic chuckle. He imagined Tonks was confused behind him, so he said, "Do you realise everyone's slept through this?" He shook his head in disbelief and repeated slower, "Everyone's slept through it. The worst thing that could possibly happen, and no one knows yet… knows that he's gone."

He sensed her take tentative step forward. "I owled Kingsley. He's gone to alert the rest of the Order after the Ministry. I think Prof-" she caught herself, "Minerva will be informing the students officially in the morning, though I doubt they don't already know."

Remus nodded. At least everyone else seemed to be thinking clearly. He had been, but that was before he had fully comprehended the situation. "That's probably best. This may very well be the last night they spend here."

He'd said it so easily earlier. Simply _Dumbledore is dead_, unaffected almost, but really, he had been testing the words, saying them aloud, convincing himself of the truth.

Silence reigned again, Remus wondering if, with Dumbledore gone, this sort of situation was going to become more common as his mind drifted back a year before. Back when, in a blur of panic, they'd discovered Harry and his friends had rushed straight into Voldemort's trap. In the Department of Mysteries, they'd arrived just in time. He remembered the battle, remembered watching Tonks tumble down the stone steps, when he'd been forced to stay and protect Harry rather than rush to her side. He'd felt sick already, seeing her sprawled motionless and broken, and then Sirius-

"Where do we go from here?" she asked, gratefully interrupting his ruminations.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to concentrate on her words to him rather than the fresh feelings of grief and sorrow. His mission with the ferals had come up too quickly after that; he hadn't had time to properly mourn his life-long friend. There hadn't even been a funeral. And then he'd also had a separate loss to grieve at the time. One that he was still grieving.

Recalling what she'd only just asked, Remus had an inkling that she was offering him a crossroads with that question. It was loaded, and knowing her, he knew that had been her intention.

Avoiding the other implications, he answered, "Well, the Order needs a new leader. I suppose that will be the first issue we'll need to address after… Dumbledore's memorial."

If she was disappointed with his answer, she didn't let it show, replying after a brief hesitation by asking, "Who do you think?"

He shrugged. "Alastor's the most experienced of us."

"I think that would actually be a mark against him," she answered levelly, but he didn't have to look to know the mischievous spark in her eyes.

Despite himself, Remus actually snorted at the implication behind the statement. It really wasn't funny; the man had seen too much, and it had left him… paranoid, for lack of a better word.

It felt good to laugh, he thought.

He turned his head slightly to her, watching her from the corner of his eye. "I take it you don't consider yourself in the running?"

She scoffed. "Of course I do. We can defeat Voldie with loud punk rock and bright, clashing colors."

He choked back the chuckle, but couldn't prevent the wistful smile curling his lips. She almost sounded like herself; _he _almost sounded like himself. But Remus didn't allow himself to think anything further into it and said seriously, "You're far more capable than that, you know."

"You're far more capable than most people in the Order," she said just as earnestly.

He clenched his jaw, turning back to the window. He could not, would not even consider taking the lead. Even so, he said, "I think Kingsley would be a good choice."

"King would be great," she readily agreed. "Do you think he could handle both the Ministry and the Order, though?"

"Who then? Harry? Minerva will be overwhelmed with the school if it's allowed to stay open."

"Remus-" she entreated softly, undoubtedly sensing his defensive shift in demeanour.

"Don't."

She huffed. "Don't what?" she fired back, flying from gentle persuasion to anger. "Don't believe in you? Remus, if you haven't figured it out by now, I'm never going to stop. What you become one night a month does not define who you are!"

"It's not a matter of belief, Tonks," he bit back just as forcefully. "It's a matter of ability."

"And you're so incompetent? Despite whatever low opinion you may have of yourself, you are brilliant with a wand. No one will ever be able to fill Dumbledore's shoes, but you have a right mind and heart for it. And with all that bloody legislation in place, you have nothing but freedom, which is just what we need."

He ignored her compliments, not wanting to discuss it. Instead, he said darkly, "Readymade. Just perfect for the job."

He wished he could take it back as soon as it was out of his mouth.

She sucked in her breath sharply.

Remus closed his eyes in self-recrimination. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." He didn't know why he'd said that. Tonks wasn't being facetious, and he certainly didn't hold anything against Dumbledore.

Silence.

He did not begrudge Dumbledore, Remus thought to himself again. He could never. It was unfounded, baseless, and he did not feel that way. It was wrong, and any small part of him that _may_ have, that might have, he denied before it could even assert itself. – Not that any part of him did.

"You know I… I told him I wished I could hate him," Tonks confessed quietly, "For what he was doing to you."

Remus felt his insides freeze as an icy weight dropped through his chest. "What? When…." he tried hoarsely. "When did you-?"

"Not too long after you left," she admitted. "I was angry, but it's no excuse. Things were never the same between us. He would never look me in the eye, unless I… Unless he was apologising."

Remus was still in shock from her confession, trying to wrap his mind around it. He said cautiously, "I'm sure he knew, then, that you didn't really mean it."

"No," she corrected him immediately. "I did mean it. Inasmuch that part of me wanted to, but I could never. He knew that." She drew a shaky breath. "I wanted to apologise, but it wouldn't have been the truth. I think he knew that, too. I wish that I'd never told him in the first place."

Remus sighed. "It was never his fault, Nymphadora. How could you-?"

"Yes, it was! Not all of it, but he should have known how it would affect you! Even if he didn't before, he could see after he'd sent you!"

He opened his mouth to argue the point, but she cut him off.

"And _don't_ call me Nymphadora!" she said as an afterthought. "You lost that privilege when you decided you didn't have the right to love me anymore."

He bristled. "That is not what I decided. I still love you."

"And you really expect me to leave you when I know that?"

He was hindering her? It caused him to pause. "Yes," he answered thoughtfully after a moment. "I suppose I do. Stop worrying about me and move on with your life."

She made a strangled noise. "Remus…!" But any contention she had been about to throw at him, she swallowed, and he had the sense to wonder why. She sniffled and sighed defeatedly. "I could really use you right about now."

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her, with her back to him, wrap her arms around herself, head falling forward. She inhaled deeply and let the air out in unsteady increments.

He only hesitated for a moment before turning fully to face her. In two steps, he stood directly behind her. He reached out, clasping her shoulder and dragging his hand briefly downward before Tonks spun quickly around and grasped him in a tight hug. Face buried in his chest and arms securely fastened around his neck, he could feel how she shivered. In another moment, he was pressing her to him, arms wrapped around her. He dipped his head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"You're shaking," she noted absently.

He gave a low chuckle. "Yes. So are you."

She didn't laugh with him. Instead, she broke, clinging to him tighter and wept, whispering his name.

His throat felt dry, tears burning in his own eyes. He held her closer, trying, and failing, not to relish the feeling of her being in his arms again.

"What are you even fighting for, Remus?" she murmured against him, words muffled by his ragged robes.

He didn't answer. Surely, she wasn't asking him of all people his motives.

But she was, and Tonks asked the question that made him question everything: "What's the point of fighting for a better world if you don't believe you belong in it?"

It was a fair question, a difficult one, but moreover, he found himself wondering: When… had that changed? Acceptance and submission were two entirely separate things; when had the first led to the second?

He realized with a start that his beliefs _had _been turned upside down during his time with the ferals. He'd been so vehemently denying it, telling her he was the same person, but phrased in such a question, he could see. Where he used to firmly believe that he and his kind deserved equal footing in society, he now wasn't so sure.

They weren't subhuman, meant to be dominated, but should they be separate? Was he a man or a monster? Did a distinction even matter?

He struggled to remain on even keel with her.

"That's beside the point," he said. No, it wasn't.

"No, it's not," she verbalised for him.

He tried a different tactic. "I'm so dangerous, Dora. And after what I've participated in-"

She lifted her head to look at him. "I don't care. You know I don't! It's not like it was ever _you. _You have to understand that by now!"

"You should care," he said gently. "What if something happened to you?"

"It never would! Not with you," she insisted. "You're far too careful! We both are."

Fear bit at him. "You can't know that for sure."

"So you choose to live in fear?"

He clenched his teeth together. "I choose not to take unnecessary risks."

Tonks pushed away from him, anger radiating from her defensive stance. "Is being in love so dangerous?"

He winced, denying immediately, "Of course not."

"What's the difference between friendship and love, then? Because you're here, obviously, so you must deem the threat manageable."

The accusation stung, but he could see her point.

"Nymphadora," he tried again. "You and I are… much closer. More than just work colleagues."

"Colleagues? Is that what you think of us all? This is about you staying alone and separate from everyone?"

"No!" he denied quickly, and then took it back. "Yes! Yes, that's it exactly." It was the truth, after all.

Tonks dropped her arms from their previous position locked across her chest, the anger dissipating from her in an instant. "Because _they're_ separate?"

He knew who she meant.

"I _should_ be separate, Tonks. I don't belong here."

"Then why are you fighting?" she asked again. "Why are you here? I know it's not just revenge."

He couldn't answer. He was fighting because he had to; because it was the right thing to do. He was here because he couldn't sit by idly and do nothing. But she wanted more than that - she wanted the reason behind it all.

And Remus didn't know that reason.

"You're not the same, Remus!" Tonks answered for him when he said nothing. "You may have the same curse, but your heart is different! Can't you see that? That's why he chose you, not because you're a werewolf! You went there to change them, but you let them change you instead!"

He stared at her, unable to form a comeback. Too many thoughts were running through his mind. When he said nothing, her gaze fell down to the floor beneath her feet.

That had been the original mission; he wasn't sure when he began to question it. Had he honestly ever believed Dumbledore had sent him because he was a werewolf? To separate him from the others? He wasn't sure, but he did know that he'd needed to hear that affirmation since before he'd even begun his time among them.

He was different, Dumbledore had told him. The Headmaster had even tried to convince him once, when he'd been reporting on the mission:

"_Remember what separates us from them, Remus," Dumbledore had said in parting."It is the same thing that can join us together, the very same thing that defines us."_

_He stopped at the door of his office, hand hovering over the handle. "What's that?"_

_He paused before answering, ever the professor hoping his student would determine on his own. But when no response was issued from Remus, he answered, "Love."- The simplest of answers. "Show them that love can exist between us all."_

He nodded at the cliché and hoped that the Headmaster wouldn't notice that the words inspired nothing within him. "I'll do my best."

"And Remus." The Headmaster waited until his former pupil faced him. "Never forget the abundance you have here."

But that was exactly what he had done. – Not forgotten, but abandoned. Separated. Distanced from the others; after all, he was different.

All this time, he had been focusing on the wrong differences.

He _was_ different – from the ferals; Remus could acknowledge that. Whereas their separation from the Wizarding World was an act of hatred and rejection, his separation had been solely for protection and compassion, for those that loved and hated him alike. But he had separated himself not only from the Wizarding world, his friends who he thought as close as family, and Tonks, but from the ferals themselves, as well. He certainly didn't cling to them, because deep down, he had always known something: he wasn't like them. If he'd developed closer ties, they would have seen it.

In fact, it was probably for that reason he'd been so unsuccessful in his attempts to sway any of the underground werewolf population. He had so distanced himself from _everyone_ that he had become the very essence of those who comprised the feral pack, of what made Greyback's offers so appealing to them. He could understand what they saw in him, _did_ understand at a level he should not have been able.

His decision to accept the mission should have never been based in dread and misplaced hurt, but the belief that he could make a difference in the war. Dumbledore had never before made him feel anything less than a man; he wondered at his ability to question such a thing.

He'd been blinded by his own lacking sense of worth. He'd allowed himself to be taken in by the despair of the world's perceptions and judgments. Remus recognized that the beliefs he'd harbored these last ten months, while based in his own dour thoughts and misconceptions, had not been his own. Or they hadn't been until he'd convinced himself otherwise.

What was more important was that now faced with the truth of the matter, that these beliefs were not truly his own, he determined that he no longer wanted to hold them as his own.

And knowing all that, _believing_ that, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long while filled him: acceptance. True acceptance – not the selfish, perverted form with which he'd been punishing himself.

He would never be able to change what he was, but _who _he was – he had all the control in the world over that. If Tonks was willing to love him, he would love her completely. She deserved as much and more. And he would keep her safe, no matter what the cost to himself.

The other changes within him had not happened overnight, and they would take time to reverse. He was in for a rough road of soul searching in the near future, but for now, there was one thing he could change at the immediate present.

Remus approached Tonks again, gently lifting her chin when she wouldn't look at him. "I don't deserve you," he said hoarsely, honestly.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, defeat registering in her eyes. "Remus," she whispered desperately. "_Please_. It doesn't matter what you do or do not deserve! I _love_ you!"

She was begging him. In all the time that had passed, she had never begged him. She truly believed she had lost. But what struck him to his core was the sincerity of her earnest plea. For him. That such a woman as Nymphadora Tonks would beg him to accept her love humbled him. As much as he was ashamed to have brought her to such an act, he couldn't quite shake a small feeling of joy.

For the first time in a very long time, he ignored the guilt that he was who she'd chosen.

Gently, he wiped away her tears with his thumbs. "You're exactly right. But I don't deserve you, all the same. I don't deserve anything or anyone after my behaviour," he said seriously.

She grasped onto his wrists, his hands still framing her cordiform face.

"But I won't waste anymore time, Dora," he said holding her gaze. "I've been a fool, to so casually throw away what the others and especially you have freely offered. I've been ungrateful and selfish. I used to believe that the best I repayment I could give was the equivalent and more than what I received in kindness… and love."

Her mouth hung slightly agape. "Does this mean…?"

A wistful smile found its way to his lips. "You're more stubborn than James and Sirius combined, and my logic could never match their wisdom when it came to our friendship."

"There is nothing logical about what you've done, Remus," she asserted firmly, and he let her have it, choosing not to respond to the contrary.

"I'm willing to try again," he offered, and then revised what he'd said: "I want to try again."

"Tell me," she said, leaning into his palm. "Tell me yes or no."

"Yes," he said quietly. "If you'll have me, then yes." He rested his forehead against hers. "I am yours."

She didn't reply in words, choosing action instead as her means of communication. Remus, for once lacking any hesitations, happily replied in kind.

In a changing world as terrifying and volatile as theirs, little was certain, least of all the future. They couldn't rely on much but the ties that bound them together, and finally, he intended to hold on. If Remus was to fight for good, he needed to ally himself with it in the truest sense of the word: how could he fight for something he'd not allow himself to partake in? How could he fight if he did not believe?

Without a friend, without a reason, Remus had never amounted to much. He depended on others as much as they depended on him; it was a natural order, one in which he was inexplicably tangled. Other people were what – whom – Remus lived for, regardless of how he showed it.

But it was time that he truly showed it. So that she, so that they all, knew without question.

After all, the world could always use a little more love. That was what Dumbledore would have, and on the eve of his death, it seemed appropriate that Remus finally fulfill his role.

Love was something Remus had in ample supply; it defined him. And if Tonks was the sole beneficiary of that at this moment, he could think of no better expression.

As they parted, breathless and clinging to the other, Remus felt the stirrings of a subdued hope rising within his chest, just below where Tonks firmly pressed her head. Dire circumstances of the evening had not shifted one bit, but the future seemed a little brighter, and Remus felt renewed.

He kissed her temple softly and whispered his adoration in her ear.

It was amazing what a little love could do.

The End

**AN: "**That's it, Jacks?! _That's _what took you so long?!" Yep. That's it. But hey, it was a lot harder than it looks!

I thought it was important that Dumbledore be the overriding reason here, since Remus obviously did not have it all figured out as evidenced in DH. The hardest part was not allowing him to realize too much. Especially the conversation that Remus flashed back to, in the original version, the importance of that scene wasn't brought to the fore enough; I didn't feel that anyone even really understood the reason for the title, which was derived from that scene. I substituted Truth instead of Answer for the title, because… Well, because I didn't/don't like the way The Simple Answer sounds in comparison to the Truth.

Again, my sincere thanks to everyone who reviewed the original version; reading how y'all interpreted/phrased what happened in this story and your suggestions for the new ending really helped me_ a lot _in the revision and revamping.


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